


From the Golden Hour to the Blue

by Rhanon_Brodie (Glass_Jacket)



Category: Arctic Monkeys, British Singers RPF, Indie Music RPF
Genre: Beards, Fluff, Long Hair, M/M, Slash, but it's sexy fluff, humbug era, jamex, men ejaculating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Jacket/pseuds/Rhanon_Brodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve gone from the golden hour to the blue in a manner of moments, all of which stand out in stark clarity.  They exist in this time separate from everything else, and they both clutch the notion as tightly as they do each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Golden Hour to the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> So, here's some Jamex fluff that has been floating around my head and bubbled to the surface thanks to doodelstrudel / prettyvisitorsinthebakery over on tumblr. Well, really, it was that damn pic's fault. Takes place during the last days of recording Humbug in the desert, and is full of pretty imagery, and analogies to sunsets.

“Are you awake?”

Jamie smiles dreamily at the whisper of Alex’s voice, but doesn’t open his eyes. He shakes his head slowly, and stretches along the overused futon in the back room of Rancho de Luna. He hears Alex’s giggle next, and he can’t keep the smile from growing on his face.

“Shh,” Jamie scolds playfully. “M’sleepin’.”

Alex glances up from where he’s scratching lines onto the page and contemplates Jamie’s lax pose - arms folded over his chest, hands tucked under his arms, biceps stretching the faded cotton of his t-shirt sleeves. His muscular legs take up the rest of the seating area on the couch, quadriceps and calves making his jeans bunch every time he shifts a little bit. The light of the late afternoon is cutting the dust motes floating in the warm air of the room, and the angle of it is such that it just barely touches the tips of Jamie’s hair, turning the ends gold and red and brown where they curl next to Jamie’s jaw and tangle with the dark beard he’s started growing.

The younger lad doesn’t realize he’s nibbling on the inside of his lip until Jamie licks his own, and turns onto his side and cracks his eyes open. “You know, even when you’re not talkin’, I can hear everyfin’ you’re sayin’. It’s those eyes.” Jamie winks and then closes his eyes once more with a little sigh.

Alex had sat up ramrod straight when Jamie had opened his eye, and now he can’t stop prodding the raw spot on his lip with the tip of his tongue. He can’t stop staring, either, despite Jamie’s observation. Alex’s cheeks have heated a little in response, and he clears his throat, and then finally manages to pull his eyes from Jamie long enough to glance at the page.

“Quit worryin’ ‘bout it,” Jamie murmurs, shifting once more to stretch onto his back.

Alex looks up, tucking a dark hank of hair behind his ear, eyes going wide as Jamie arches his back, and twists his hips, the hem of his grey Henley riding up to expose his belly button, and the trail of soft, dark blond hair below it. He yawns next, a giant, jaw-cracking feat, and then hooks his hands over the arm of the couch that he rests his head upon, and blinks his eyes open once more.

“The song,” Jamie clarifies, nodding in the direction of Alex’s notebook. “You’ll write it when you need it, and not a moment before, yeah?”

“It’s not-” Alex pauses, smiling, and folds the notebook closed, his pen holding his place. 

“It’s not what?” Jamie prods, moving to sit up.

“No,” Alex suddenly exclaims, shaking his head, holding a hand to Jamie. “Don’t move. Not yet.”

Slowly, Jamie allows himself to relax into the couch cushions once more, the ever present smile growing a bit deviant. Still, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, holding it before letting it out slowly. “C’mere,” he murmurs.

The breeze kicks up then, that hot twist with the underlying chill of the approaching desert night, and Alex shivers where he sits, gooseflesh rising on his arms and the back of his shoulders. Tilting his head one way, and then another, he memorises the quality of light as it moves over Jamie’s face, illuminating the older lad’s profile - strong nose, carved jaw, rounded cheeks, smooth forehead. Alex feels a warm sensation blooming somewhere close to his heart that reminds him of the last vestiges of light bursting before the sun dips down below the horizon line. 

“Alex,” Jamie calls again, pulling the lad from his musing. He opens one eye, as the other is shrouded in that golden light, and he squints. “ _C’mere_ ,” he urges once more. “Come lay wiv me, yeah? Stop thinkin’ about whatever you’re thinkin’ about an’ just come be here beside me.”

 _How can I stop thinking about it, when you’re the thing taking up all me thoughts?_ Alex muses lightly. Still, he pushes back from the table and stands, and wanders to where Jamie lays.

“Closer,” Jamie whispers, reaching a hand and curling it around Alex’s fingers until they’re twined together and Alex can feel his pulse where Jamie’s digits squeeze his own. He gives a tug, and Alex goes willingly, until his shins bump the edge of the couch, and he’s looking down at Jamie gazing up at him.

With another gentle pull, Jamie whispers, “ _Closer_ ,” once more, and keeps pulling until Alex takes the hint, toes off his moccasins, and allows Jamie to arrange him in his lap, broad hands holding Alex’s knees to his hips. 

And Alex has to giggle again, and he blushes, because they’re not often afforded this luxury to just be, as Jamie put it a moment ago - to exist with one another, no one else around, no prying eyes or lunging cameras, no outside influence save for wind and sun and rain.

“Closer,” Jamie demands again, his voice a gruff growl just above his whisper. His hand wraps the back of Alex’s neck, twining fingers into all that hair, and he urges Alex to shift his hips back, to fit between Jamie’s strong thighs, to lie face to face, heart to heart, heat exchanging with small, fluttering breaths.

“Almost,” Jamie smiles, curling the backs of his fingers over Alex’s cheekbone before tipping the younger lad’s chin up. With their lips but a fraction of an inch apart, and Alex’s blood pounding in his ears, Jamie finally seems satisfied, and murmurs, “Much better,” before he presses a soft, warm kiss to Alex’s pouting lips. 

The melting pot of tongues and taste serves to spark Alex’s energy, and Jamie’s enthusiasm is evident in the way his hips shift, and his hands pull once more, this time at Alex’s hair, his shoulders, then his shirt, his belt, his fly, and boxers, too. Alex plays along, eager to keep up with Jamie as they slowly start to lose control. They don’t know how long they’ll be allowed to be like this, so they take it, and make it their own.

Soon, Alex is shifting to take Jamie inside, both of them glad that nowadays they have the foresight to stash the things they’ll need into jean pockets besides guitar picks and lighters. The way is smooth, and hot, and snug, and Jamie hisses and then gulps a breath as Alex settles his weight down, and back, with a practiced roll of his hips. Jamie murmurs his delight, and reaches for Alex once more, pulling the lithe body down to steal a kiss, push the hair from dark, wondrous eyes, so that he has something to hold onto in this desert storm that is quickly taking over. Placing a warm hand on Alex’s hip, Jamie guides him with the push and pull of their bodies, swallowing every gasp and sigh that Alex gifts him.

Together, they create a space that is rosy with the color of love and flushed cheeks, and golden with the light that spills inside. It’s not long before Alex is reluctantly pulling back from Jamie’s lips, seeking the thrilling finish of the race they’re both eagerly running. With his hand splayed on Jamie’s chest, Alex leans back, his other hand searching behind him until he’s gripping Jamie’s thigh just above the knee. The older lad can only hold on and watch as Alex rolls his hips and moans, taking Jamie deeper with each swing and roll of his lean hips, riding him into the twilight. 

When Alex starts to shudder and whine, Jamie makes his move, looping a muscled arm behind Alex’s shoulders, and splaying the hand on his hips wide, back to squeeze and pull at the firm flesh of Alex’s ass, holding him open as his fingertips trace down around where they’re joined. It puts a stutter in Alex’s hips, and a whine on his lips, and soon, he’s kissing Jamie, and Jamie’s kissing him, and they don’t ever want to come up for air. They move like that, a churning of limbs and flesh, gasping their ecstasy in one another’s ears, eyes bright, mouths smiling.

They are panting one another’s names, and then suddenly Jamie is tensing, and bucking, and holding Alex down on his cock as he drives up, and comes, growling softly into the tender skin of Alex’s neck. Alex gasp loudly in reply, and groans, and manages to pull up from Jamie’s embrace. He stares down at Jamie in awe as his own orgasm is pulled from his toes up through his hips, and shoots hotly onto Jamie’s belly, who still pulses and shudders from his own climax.

Jamie’s discarded t shirt is used to clean them up, and it gets tossed back to the floor before he’s pulling Alex up to lay between his legs once more, pounding hearts still rattling their ribcages, and their breath still heavy and rapid. Sweat is cooling with the evening air that is now floating in through the open window behind the couch; they’ve gone from the golden hour to the blue in a manner of moments, all of which stand out in stark clarity. They exist in this time separate from everything else, and they both clutch the notion as tightly as they do each other as they shift, and turn, and make room for one another’s limbs on the narrow couch.

Jamie drifts off first, and Alex is left to lay on Jamie’s chest, his fingers carding through the dark blond hair there, his nose pressed to the sweet smell of Jamie’s skin and sweat. Now the night light has set in, the moon barely risen, but the sky is dark enough to see the flood of the Milky Way and get caught in its reflection. Jamie’s profile is no longer cast in the golden hues of the afternoon, but in starlight, in twilight, and Alex’s fingers itch to pick up the pen once more. But his bones are languid, and his breathing has slowed to rise and fall in time with that of the man beneath him.

But he’ll get up in the middle of the night, when the blue is gone from the sky and is replaced with inky blackness, and he’ll turn on the little lights that line the space and cause the room to glow once more. Jamie will stir and mutter something, but he won’t wake, because after coming like that, Jamie sleeps like the dead. The only difference is, the dead don’t smile like Jamie does. Alex will shuffle to the little table where he’s left his notebook, and with a blanket around his shoulders, and his jeans pulled up over his hips, he’ll sit down, and open the page where he’s been keeping his heart when it’s not in use. Right now, it’s full of one thing only, and when it comes time to release singles from _Humbug_ , and ‘My Propeller’ is chosen, Jamie will look at the cover art, his profile cut in lightening across the blue, and remember those moments spent in the desert, and how they were spun in gold.


End file.
